One of Us
by broken-hearted wings
Summary: Sam Winchester's always had a problem with fitting in. But when he finally thinks he's achieved the impossible, a ghost with a vengeance appears and takes him into a centuries-old plot that the brothers never saw coming. Rated T.


**~!~ Hey, guys! So, this is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fic since FTF. That fic's pretty much abandoned, my apologies to the TMNT fans who liked it so much. I do have a gift for you guys, as I've also been planning and working on a chapfic for TMNT and Mikey in particular. Anyways! This was meant to be posted on Halloween, but I was so busy that it had to be postponed. Happy late Halloween, Supernatural fans! This story is from Sam's pov, before the series, when he was still in school and sometime after Dean dropped out. In this story, I said that Dean was nineteen, but I'm not exactly sure on Sam's age. For lack of a better name, I've titled it after the song that inspired it: One of Us, from the Lion King II soundtrack. Anyway, please read and review! I'd love to hear from you guys, what you think of it, etc. There'll be a lot more of Dean, I promise. 3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Castiel'd be fine, as would the brother's relationship, so most of season six and seven would not exist. Yeah.**

**Sidenote: If anyone catches a spelling error and PMs me about it, I will grant you a story request. I can't promise it'll be prompt and I ask that it not be anything too beyond my capabilities, but the offer is out there for those of you who are just as picky and obsessive about spelling errors as I am. Thanks again!**

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><p>Dean sat in the Impala, arm hanging out of the window, fingers tapping absent-mindedly to Metallica's Enter Sandman as he waited. The sun light filtering through the rows of apple trees dotted the dusty car's exterior and he mentally promised his baby a good wash when they got back to the apartment. She'd been through quite an adventure last weekend, so it was only fair. He'd had to change the back left tire because it'd been pierced by a stray knife. <em>Time to work on Sam's knife-throwing.<em>

Speaking of his little brother, school was letting out. He lazily looked out over the crowd of high-schoolers, enjoying the recently-earned authority that came from not having to attend school any more like these monkeys. Though, of course, that didn't stop him from checking out the busty cheerleader squad. _Everything really is bigger in Texas._

He could easily discern the different groups from the way they banded together. The band geeks were cowering in their usual corner, hoping the football players were too busy with their cheerleader girlfriends to come over and crack their precious trombones over their fragile, nerdy heads. Dean snorted to himself as he waited still. The Hispanic groupies were visible too, along with the goths. He'd never been able to understand those creepy kids. Who wanted to bake their face in make-up and then wear clothing like it was Halloween? _Crazy people._

Speaking of which, Sam still hadn't made an appearance. Dean cast an impatient look at his watch, noticing that cars were starting to pull out of the parking lot and there was still no sign of his little brother.

"You sure picked a lousy time to start being tardy, Sam." Dean muttered, wanting very much to get back to the apartment so he could clean the car. Their father had left on a whole tour of jobs, leaving them for nearly a month and a half at the apartment he'd purchased. He called every so often with updates, but it was hardly enough. Dean shifted in his seat, wondering if his father would condone allowing Sam as much freedom as Dean was now. He didn't mind if Sam participated on the Forensic Team or the soccer team, but he had a feeling that their father would.

Only a moment after thinking that, he saw a big group of jersey-ied kids walking out of the field house and toward the school building itself. Dean's eyes widened in recognition. _Soccer practice held over today._ He could see Sam walking along in his shorts and jersey, talking to several other boys, only one of whom came close to his height. They walked into the building, leaving Dean to tap his fingers in impatience. Nearly fifteen minutes later, Sam and his buddies appeared. Sam broke away from the group, waving casually, and walking up to the Impala.

"You'd think that being on the soccer team meant you'd move faster." Was Dean's kind greeting. Sam rolled his eyes, tossing his book bag and sports bag in the back of the car and trotting around to the other side so he could climb in.

"Tomorrow's the big game and Coach made a few changes." Sam said and Dean would've heard the tone in his voice if he'd been standing a football field away. He glanced at his younger brother as he started the car, catching the proud lift of Sam's mouth and the dance of his fidgety fingers as they played with his shirt hem. Hell, Sammy was even sitting up straighter, eyes bright and _happy_.

"…. And?" Dean demanded, not much for waiting, and braked for the stop light. Sam grinned.

"Coach decided on his team for the year and he added me in as goalie."

Dean forgot to press the gas pedal and stared at Sam incredulously.

"We've only been here two months and you're already goalie?" He demanded. Sam couldn't wipe the smile off his face for anything, it seemed, as he wasn't even insulted.

"Yeah. Apparently they lost a lot of key players with last year's graduation, and the coach thought I had some talent. So he switched us in and out to see how we all did, and he must've really liked me defending." _Sounds like the understatement of the year._ Dean thought, as he finally grinned back.

"That actually sounds pretty awesome, Sammy." He said, reaching over to ruffle Sam's hair and ignoring the grumbled protest. "I was beginning to think you'd be a useless nerd forever."

"Hah." Sam snorted. "Coach says I've got the fastest reflexes he's ever seen and that I'm easily one of the most agile newbies. Says he's never seen reactions like mine." Dean smirked.

"Damn straight."

Sam laughed again.

"Coach says-"

"Annnnnd I'm already sick of this coach. Is there another hero of yours that you can talk about?" Dean asked, turning onto the main street. He wasn't terribly fond of the idea of having to listen to Sam wax eloquent about his amazing soccer coach. It wasn't like Sam was lacking in role models.

"Aw, jealous, Dean?" Sam said, grinning.

"You wish." He turned into their apartment complex and frowned as another thought occurred to him. "Who used to be goalie?"

Sam wrinkled his nose, lips turning down.

"This senior who thinks he's amazing. Thad Broadstreet. He and a bunch of his friends were actually replaced this time around. Apparently, they didn't do so hot last year as juniors and caused problems then too. They won't be hanging around much longer if they keep acting like they own the world."

"Always hated those types." Dean agreed, parking. "The ones who think they're hot shit are usually the worst." Sam nodded and got out, grabbing his bags as Dean turned off the ignition and hopped out. "Hey, man?"

Sam glanced up at him curiously.

"Watch out for them though, okay? They sound like dumbasses who'd be stupid enough to take it out on you, so watch your back."

"You sound like Dad." Sam muttered, but nodded his agreement. "I kinda doubt they'll start spewing ectoplasm at me, but I'll be careful."

"With a name like Thad Broadstreet, it sounds like he'll be spewing bullshit instead, but I've been wrong before." Dean said, and endured Sam's burst into laughter.

~~!~~!~~!~~

Sam didn't think much on Dean's words. Dean was just like Dad; they both worried and thought everything was out to get them. Sam agreed that the world was a dangerous place and always had one too many monsters in it, but he wasn't going to let paranoia ruin this for him. Unfortunately, Coach Whitman's announcement set him in the middle of something he'd never seen coming.

"Hey, Sam! What do you think of this?" Kyle Purview made his way over, holding out his Algebra II book like he thought it might bite him. "Watson's assignment isn't making any sense and Tyler said you knew your way around math, so I was hoping..?"

Sam glanced over at Tyler Montebanks, who was still changing, and shook his head, grinning to himself. Tyler had made his way over as soon as Sam'd gotten onto the team and the two were good fiends now. Tyler was a blessing in disguise, as his straightforward personality made things seem much simpler and steadier, even in the hormonal trappings of high school. He sat down on the bench next to Kyle and took the book from him, examining the problems Kyle was struggling with.

"Okay, man, first off, 6 times 7 is _not_ 80." He admonished, trying not to laugh at the mortified look on Kyle's face.

"Sorry, I didn't have my calculator with me." His teammate apologized, writing an indecipherable number in its place. Tyler wandered over as Sam found Kyle's first mistake and then dug out his calculator to show Kyle how to rework the problem.

"Told you he knows what he's doing." Tyler said, watching them curiously and giving his commentary like he always did. "Something Sam won't tell you to do, but will probably help a lot is for you to learn how to write properly. That looks a lot like chicken scratch."

Kyle glared and Sam laughed.

"It's not so awful." Sam said kindly. "You should see my brother's handwriting."

"Did you learn your blocks from him too?" Demanded a nasty voice from over Tyler's shoulder. "That wouldn't shock me."

The three boys looked up to see Thad Broadstreet, arms crossed over his muscular chest, giving them a dirty look. The senior was the largest on the team, with Sam being the only exception, and his height belied his speed. He was alone, surprisingly, because Sam hadn't seen him without his cronies until now.

"Oh shut up, Thad." Tyler ordered, unimpressed. "You're not one to talk. We all know you learned your insults from the cheer squad." Sam had to fight a grin despite himself.

"You should watch your tone, Montebanks. You're the one who lives downtown. If it weren't for your ability to save the ball with your face, I'd snap you like a twig." Thad snapped, staring down at the much-smaller-by-comparision junior. Tyler remained unimpressed, crossing his own arms and matching Thad's stance.

"A twig? Who's got two thumbs and a whole damn tree up his ass? You!"

Sam could feel the rebirth of an old argument.

"I _will_ snap you like a twig." Thad snapped, approaching, towering over the younger and shorter student. "You're going to wish you had arms as big as that mouth of yours. Perhaps you missed the part where athletes are supposed to be able to carry their own weight." He smirked. "That's what happens when you visit a gym."

"Is that what you call it? I thought your version was dicking around, bullying the freshmen and sophomores, and banging all whores." Tyler said heatedly.

Sam stood up just as Thad lashed out, and Tyler stumbled backwards, hitting the lockers behind him with a loud bang. Sam quickly interposed himself between the two of them, hands going out in a placating gesture that also prevented the two from leaping at each other.

"Guys, come on, this is stupid. Tyler, stop antagonizing him. Thad, back off." Sam tried to keep it from sounding like an order, his hand fisting in Tyler's shirt to keep him from lunging forward.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Do you know who you're talking to?" Thad demanded, and Sam turned instinctively to face the threat head-on, Kyle making an appearance and helpfully keeping a firm hand on Tyler's arm.

"A senior who's only making things worse for his team." Sam said carefully, elbowing Tyler when he tried to move forward again.

"Leave us alone." He ordered Thad.

Thad laughed at him.

"If I can clean this team of you pathetic players, I'll be doing everyone here a favor. You should go back to whatever dumbshit school you went to before, no one will miss you." His attention was centered on Sam now and the Winchester was wishing he hadn't been so quick to interrupt the fight. _Next time, Tyler, he's all yours._

"Coach Whitman will." Tyler snapped from behind Sam. "You must be forgetting, Sam's the one who replaced you. Obviously, he's better for us than you."

….. _On second thought._ Sam could've groaned out loud and if looks could kill, he was sure that Kyle would've put Tyler ten feet under. Thad snarled like an animal.

"You're right, I almost forgot." He growled and Sam saw the fist coming. He ducked and, remembering that he had two people behind him, sidestepped to take the fight away from them.

"Thad, we don't have to do this." The senior came on anyway, laughing in Sam's face, thinking that the peace-making attempts were because Sam was scared. He didn't even bother to talk, taking another swing and Sam wondered how in the world he managed to land himself with a fight with someone who actually had training. Thad moved lightly on the balls of his feet and held himself with ease, holding his hands and tucking his elbows like a professional. _Come on, really?_

Sam got a quick glimpse of his two friends; they seemed to be struggling with each other. Typically, Tyler was trying to pull free and jump headfirst into the fight while Kyle had grabbed both of his arms and was holding him back. Sam was infinitely thankful for that. At least he only had one person to worry about right now.

Thad smirked and Sam decided he distinctly didn't like that look, right before his back hit a wall full of lockers. _Oh, crap._ He ducked the punch, almost wincing at the sound of Thad's fist smacking the metal and the muffled curse. Sam's foot darted out, hooking around the back of Thad's right knee, and pulling with a quick jerk. At the same time, he shoved Thad's left shoulder and sent the heavy senior tumbling.

Sam leaned over, putting a hand on the bench there, and said,

"We don't want any trouble! Man, you don't have to keep doing this, it's ridiculous." Thad glared up at him, nursing his wounded hand against his chest. Anger gleamed in his bright eyes.

"Who do you think you are?" He demanded, glaring as he tried to pull himself up on the bench next to him. Thad lashed out, grabbing Sam's knee in a move very similar to Sam's, and yanked, trying to pull him off balance. Sam already had a hand on the bench, so he braced himself and landed on his knees and not his face. Thad swung and hit him. Hard. Sam could taste blood on his tongue and winced, feeling the pain swell in his jaw. He was knocked over the next second, back smacking into the cold floor as his head bouncing off the tiles. Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out at the blinding pain.

"You're just some dumbass newcomer. You don't belong here, Winchester. I worked hard for that damn position and you've got some major issues if you think you can just waltz in here and change things. I've been running this team for years and you aren't going to get in my way of my first state championship. Do you understand?"

Sam winced and rolled his jaw, testing it carefully. When the pain was fierce but not shattering, Sam decided it wasn't fractured and turned his head to the left, spitting the mouthful of blood that had been clogging up his tongue for the past minute. _God, that tastes-_

Thad's foot swung straight for his face and Sam reacted instantaneously. His arm flung up, knocking the devastating blow away from him and he rolled with his arm, coming to his knees and slamming into Thad's legs, knocking him down against the bench. Using the bench to throw himself up, Sam started to stand and found himself being dragged back down. An arm tried to sling around his neck and he threw himself against it, yanking both of them to their feet. Black spots of anger darted in his vision at the flashing pain and he grabbed the arm slung over his shoulder and pulled with all his might, bending his back and letting the motion flow with the momentum. Thad flew over him and landed with a loud crack on the floor.

Sam found himself reaching for his knife and stopped, shocked at how things had accelerated from a small meaningless argument to something that had begun to feel like a fight for his life. It all came down to training and instincts when he was up against the paranormal and the sudden loss of control over this particular situation made everything sink into a brighter focus. Suddenly he was fighting a battle beyond his recognition, one that seemed based on fight vs. flight and animal instincts. This felt so much like a brawl with a shape shifter or a vampire. The eerie feeling had him on edge, lashing out instinctively to keep what was usually the stronger, faster, and more vicious opponent away from himself until he either regained his footing or Dean came to the rescue.

His chest heaving with the sudden effort, Sam stepped forward, having regained control over the instinct of fighting for survival so he could restate his message, when Coach Whitman and several school officers burst into the room.

Sam jumped in surprise, moving backwards defensively until they registered past his instinctive flinching and he stood up straight, swallowing the shame as they stared from him to the groaning Thad, still lying inert on the floor.

"Coach- I can explain!" He said, fighting the distraught feeling that he'd be kicked out for the first time ever, when he saw the look in their eyes. Dean had been expelled more than once, but Sam's record was immaculate.

One of the other men, a tall and robust man whom Sam recognized as the Algebra I and II teacher, was staring at Thad in shock and moved to kneel beside him, helping him sit up carefully.

"Son, are you all right?"

Thad shook his head and winced, holding onto it like he thought it might burst at any moment. He then pointed at Sam, aim a little off, and announced,

"He was trying to kill me! That crazy freak, he fights like some kamikaze-"

"Let's not be irrational, Samuel's never been a problem in my class. He's one of the most thoughtful kids in his grade. What was going on, you two?" The stern voice was from the only woman in the room, Sam's English teacher. "I won't be having any misconduct this early in the school year."

"It wasn't Sam's fault." Kyle stepped out from behind Coach Whitman, looking at Mrs. Browning for permission to continue. "Thad started the whole thing. He was arguing with Tyler and when Sam tried to break them up, Thad went after him."

Mrs. Browning frowned severely.

"That does sound like you, Thad." She said darkly. "Your history isn't exactly sinless."

"Lisa!" The Algebra teacher reproached. "Thad's the son of one of our most prestigious and generous supporters. The Broadstreet family has never been anything but understanding when it comes to the school's financial needs-"

"Exactly. They've been fond of overlooking the obvious lacking in other areas." Mrs. Browning's eyes zeroed in on the enormous bruise on Sam's face. Sam was starting to get the feeling that this wasn't the first time a Broadstreet had caused problems for other students. The other teacher glanced back down at Thad and Sam was beckoned over by Mrs. Browning.

"Mr. Haste has given me no reason to dispute his story, unlike Mr. Broadstreet here. Mr. Winchester's record is also clean, so I see no need to debate this further. Mr. Broadstreet, you are suspended for three more days, as you were for your last incident. Mr. Haste, report to my office tomorrow morning to write your account down, so I'll have it in ink. Mr. Winchester, if you do not see a nurse or doctor before tomorrow morning, I expect to see you at my office as well, so the school nurse can take a look at you then. Unless you need a look now?"

She directed a look at him and he shook his head. Dean would only have to fix whatever work the nurse did.

"Then come, Mr. Winchester. You're done here, as are you, Mr. Haste." Kyle nodded respectfully, stepping out into the hallway while Sam approached the door, giving Thad a wide berth, trying to swallow the tightness in his throat. Had he really just avoided expulsion that easily? Mrs. Browning stopped him before he stepped out. _Maybe not._

"Please, no more trouble if you can help it, Mr. Winchester." She ordered. "I understand the troubles of high school boys must be beyond my cognitive powers, so you won't talk to me about it, but I'd like to see your guardian if at all possible. Just so we can make sure that this doesn't become a nasty little habit. All right?"

Sam nodded, thinking quickly to the story he and Dean had invented.

"My father's been out of town on a long business trip, so my brother's been taking care of me. Can he come and talk to you?"

Her dark eyes considered him carefully for a moment.

"That would be just fine." She conceded and he made to step out before another thought occurred to him.

"Um. When Kyle came to you, did he happen to mention.." Sam hesitated, realizing that mentioning Tyler would only unnecessarily involve the hothead. Mrs. Browning raised her eyebrows at him and he rapidly backtracked.

"… That I made goalie?" He finished lamely and could see the slight disbelief flash in her eyes before she shook her head.

"Your coach beat him to it, Mr. Winchester. Off you go."

Feeling as if he'd just tried to lie to a priest, Sam nodded and quickly skirted around her, hurrying out into the hallway. He winced as soon as he did, his arm lighting up in a painful burn from where Thad's foot had connected with his wrist. _That's going to make writing difficult._ He was also infinitely glad he'd spat most of the blood out of his mouth, because that definitely would've gotten him sent to the nurse's office. Sam had no desire to spend any time there, where he'd just be gawked out some more. He remembered the shocked look in the math teacher's eyes and the look in Thad's when he'd thrown him like a rag doll. _Normal people don't usually do stuff like that._

He'd walked through the locker rooms to his bookbag and had slung it over his shoulder when he felt the temperature drop sharply, plunging to degrees that drew cold steam from his lungs.

His heart froze in place as he whirled around, throwing his bookbag to the ground and then backing up hurriedly at the sight that met his wide eyes, nearly tripping over the bag he'd just dropped.

A tall man was standing in front of him. Bloodshot eyes underneath shaggy hair that hung on broad shoulders met Sam's. A large, scarred hand reached up to point at Sam and Sam could feel a hand closing around his neck as the finger stopped. _No…!_

"Beware.. enemies of.. Broadstreet." The ghost croaked and everything exploded in white.

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><p><strong>~!~ So, what'd you guys think? Reviews make things go faster, like always! I'd love to know your opinions on the characters I've introduced, I hope they aren't too boring or strange. I promise it'll be all about the lovely boys and not these random people I've inserted. ~!~<strong>


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